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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350848">Yeah, he love me (but he fucks me like he hates my guts)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naphorism/pseuds/Naphorism'>Naphorism</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dckinkmeme fills [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Dick Grayson, Angry Jason Todd, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Asphyxiation, Begging, Bondage, Bottom Dick Grayson, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Coitus Interruptus, Communication, Community: dckinkmeme, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Creepy Slade Wilson, Crying, Dacryphilia, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson Tries to Be a Good Older Sibling, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dirty Talk, Dom Slade Wilson, Dominance, Emotional Constipation, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Face Slapping, Family, Family Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Good Bro Dick Grayson, Good Bro Jason Todd, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Good Older Sibling Jason Todd, Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Good Slade Wilson, Good Younger Sibling Damian Wayne, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, Happy Ending, Hurt Dick Grayson, Insecure Jason Todd, Jason Todd Angst, Jason Todd Feels, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Kink Shaming, Lack of Communication, Light BDSM, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Love, M/M, Mentioned Bruce Wayne, Misunderstandings, Motorcycles, Neck Kissing, Overprotective Damian Wayne, Overprotective Jason Todd, Painful Sex, Pet Names, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Protective Damian Wayne, Protective Jason Todd, Sharing Clothes, Slade Wilson Being an Asshole, Slapping, Slut Shaming, Smug Slade Wilson, Stalking, Sub Dick Grayson, Supportive Damian Wayne, Swearing, Top Slade Wilson, Trust, Under-negotiated Kink, Violent Sex, Worried Damian Wayne, Worried Jason Todd, just a bit, we got both</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:46:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naphorism/pseuds/Naphorism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason lurched to his feet, stomach lurching right along with him, and stumbled around the monitor until he could watch the footage displayed on the Batcomputer’s main screen. His heart practically stopped once his brain understood what his eyes were seeing.</p><p>Deathstroke, in full armour barring his helmet, had Dick, naked as the day he was born, pinned to a bed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd, Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd &amp; Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dckinkmeme fills [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>285</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Yeah, he love me (but he fucks me like he hates my guts)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the dckinkmeme prompt <em>Jason or Damian comes across one of their siblings and their significant other engaging in kinky sex and assumes they are being raped. This fucks up everything.</em> (https://dckinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1454.html?thread=2549678#cmt2549678) Couldn't decide between Jason and Damian, so you get both.</p><p>There's no actual non-con in this, as per the prompt, but I tagged it since from Jason and Damian's perspective it comes across that way. Better safe than sorry with the tagging. There are also some elements of under-negotiated kink that are non-con.</p><p>Title is from Yummy by Ayesha Erotica, which is such a guilty pleasure song that I almost don't want to admit that I'm aware of its existence. The line fit too well not to use, though.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What you up to, demon?” Jason called to Damian as soon as his bike had skidded to a halt in the Batcave. He yanked his helmet off of his head and leapt from the bike, stalking toward his youngest brother. “Perving on Grayson’s night off?”</p><p>Damian, already unmasked, looked up from the Batcomputer’s main monitor with a deliberately blank expression on his face. Despite his best efforts to remain impassive he gulped visibly, throat working, chin bobbing. He slowly pulled off the headphones perched on his head, blinking at Jason.</p><p>Jason shot him a bemused look as he collapsed in a nearby wheeled chair, dropped his helmet to the ground, then got to work peeling off his own domino mask. “Y’know I’m just fuckin’ with ya, right,” he informed Damian idly, doing his best not to peel his eyebrows off along with the mask. “It’s nice you care about dickface. It’s nice he’s, like… a pseudo-father figure to you, or whatever. Fuck knows Bruce doesn’t ever live up to shit in that department.”</p><p>Gulping again, Damian breathed, “The mask might be best left on, Todd.” In the beats of silence that followed, his expression slowly morphed from impassivity into complete unadulterated rage. He snatched his discarded mask and a bottle of adhesive from the desk and began re-sticking with a scowl.</p><p>“What?” Jason’s hands froze against his face as he stopped removing his mask. “Am I missing something here?”</p><p>“Father told me not to look at the footage from the bugs in Richard’s safe houses,” Damian growled as he smoothed out his mask’s edges. “Tonight specifically. I do not know how he knew.”</p><p>“Okay, first off: I <em>knew</em> you were perving. Fuckin’ called it. Second: Bruce told you not to monitor the cams at Dick’s places because it’s creepy as hell,” Jason pointed out, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow beneath his half-glued mask. “There are way less invasive ways to make sure someone you care about stays safe.”</p><p>“Father is not one to talk,” Damian insisted. “He was the one who installed the safe house camera systems!”</p><p>“No one ever said Bruce had a normal understanding of privacy either. Yeah, he’s a filthy hypocrite. But he’s still right.” After a beat of silence, Jason added, “In this one specific instance.”</p><p>“How did father know it would be tonight?” Damian asked, his tone suddenly nearing hysterical. “And why… why would he not want me to put a stop to it?” Hand shaking, he reached out and yanked his headphone cord out of the jack in the Batcomputer.</p><p>“—ow you want it. Do you know how I know?” a cold voice asked through the speakers, echoing around the cave in an eerie fashion. “Because I want you. And if your only goal is to please, well. You’ll just have to let me shove my cock inside that pretty mouth as far as I can, until you choke; so far you can’t breathe. You’ll let me. You’ll let me do anything I want.”</p><p>“Are you calling me a slut?” Dick asked. His voice echoed through the Batcave as well, but he sounded less eerie and more hollow. Lifeless. “As much as I like to get kinky, you know that slut-shaming is really a turnoff for m—”</p><p>Whatever Dick had intended to say was cut off by a resounding smack.</p><p>Jason lurched to his feet, stomach lurching right along with him, and stumbled around the monitor until he could watch the footage displayed on the Batcomputer’s main screen. His heart practically stopped once his brain understood what his eyes were seeing.</p><p>Deathstroke, in full armour barring his helmet, had Dick, naked as the day he was born, pinned to a bed. Dick’s right arm was bent up behind his back, bearing the full weight of both himself and Deathstroke. A stark red bruise from the gauntleted backhand Deathstroke had just delivered was already forming high on Dick’s cheekbone.</p><p>Dick shoved at Deathstroke with his free hand. Pinned as he was beneath all of Deathstroke’s considerable bulk encased in top-of-the-line armour, even his best efforts did nothing. “This hurts,” Dick panted at length, continuing to writhe in a vain attempt to throw off the man on top of him. “Let go<em>.”</em></p><p>“No,” Deathstroke said calmly, using his free hand to comb Dick’s sweat-damp hair away from his forehead with surprising gentleness. He dragged his mouth from Dick’s temple to his jaw then reversed the motion with his mouth open. As his tongue dragged up the side of Dick’s face obscenely, it glistened pink in the dim lighting. What was visible of Dick's chest heaved as the hand that had been in his hair came to rest around his throat.</p><p>“It's painful, Slade,” Dick got out in a whine, his voice shaking with something akin to fear. He swallowed against Deathstroke’s palm and Deathstroke tightened his grip in response. “You can choke me with your cock, handcuff me, whatever. Just let my arm go.”</p><p>Deathstroke only laughed, so quiet that the camera’s mic barely managed to pick up on the sound. His face was close enough to Dick’s that for Dick the laugh was likely startlingly loud and accompanied by a gust of uncomfortably humid air against his ear.</p><p>“Let go,” Dick demanded, his voice finally nearing a tone one might expect from the great Nightwing, defender of Blüdhaven. He tugged hard against Deathstroke's grip, planting his feet and bucking up to throw him off entirely.</p><p>“Stop fighting, or I really <em>will</em> hurt you,” Deathstroke threatened, seeming more amused by Dick’s attempts to escape than anything else. “What’s that saying again?”</p><p>“I—ah!” Dick cut himself off with a pained sound reminiscent of a wounded animal as Deathstroke let go of his neck and shifted in order to push down on his right shoulder in counterpoint to the grip on his wrist, twisting his entire arm. “I’ll give you something to cry about,” Dick finished through gritted teeth. Unshed tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, shining in tandem with his spit-slick lips.</p><p>“That’s the one.” Deathstroke smiled, looking every inch the cat that caught the canary. He pushed down on Dick’s shoulder even harder with a mean glint in his eye. “Don’t hold back for my sake, pretty bird. You’re so beautiful when you cry.”</p><p>Squeezing his eyes shut to hold back the tears, Dick only succeeded in making them fall toward his temples. His mouth dropped open on what might have been a sob.</p><p>“So good for me, Robin. Cry. That’s it,” Deathstroke cooed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss first to the tip of Dick’s nose, then to his slack mouth. He released Dick’s wrist to reach for his belt, and there was the telltale clinking of handcuffs. “If you do what I say, I won’t hurt you. You might even get out of this without a limp if you behave yourself.”</p><p>Dick’s face went a startling red colour as Deathstroke manhandled him onto his stomach and cuffed his wrists behind his back. For a moment the fight seemed to have gone out of him; all he did was turn his head to the side so that he could breathe and bite his lip. But as Deathstroke plastered himself to Dick’s back and slid a gloved hand between them, Dick began to struggle again.</p><p>Deathstroke shushed him as though soothing an upset child. “Hold still. This will hurt more with all that squirming.”</p><p>“You said you wouldn’t hurt me at a— oh!” Dick’s eyes went wide all of a sudden, and he gasped, “Slade!”</p><p>“I said I wouldn’t hurt you if you did as you were told,” Deathstroke corrected, sliding his free hand across Dick’s bare shoulder in a caress that was stark in contrast to what he did next. Fisting a hand in Dick’s hair and yanking his neck back at a near impossible angle so that Dick's ear was right next to his mouth, he purred, “You didn’t do as you were told. So answer me truthfully: can you show me just how good you can be?”</p><p>“Yes! Okay,” Dick hissed frantically, then visibly forced his muscles to relax. “I can be good, I promise. What do you want me to do?”</p><p>Deathstroke hummed, pleased, then let go of Dick’s hair suddenly enough for his head to bounce when it hit the pillow. “Stay still and <em>beg</em>.”</p><p>As Deathstroke’s arm moved between them, Dick’s eyes squeezed shut in response. His breathing laboured, he panted, “Please not like this. It—” letting out a pained groan, he spread his legs. “Not dry, Slade, please. Your gloves are too much. Please stop, I <em>can't</em>.”</p><p>“Not at all convincing, pretty bird. Spreading your legs like that — you look like you want me to keep going,” Deathstroke murmured in a faux-thoughtful tone.</p><p>“Please, ah,” Dick breathed. “<em>Please</em> go slower.”</p><p>Deathstroke ignored Dick’s pleas. If anything, the malicious smirk and intense concentration on his face implied that he was moving faster.</p><p>“Fuck!” Dick turned his face back to the pillow and bit down to hold in whimpers, tears mingling with spit to soak the pillowcase.</p><p>“If your precious family could see you now, what would they think?” Deathstroke asked, laughter in his voice.</p><p>With a start, Jason remembered where he was; what was happening. Being frozen up in horror wouldn’t help anyone. He smacked a hand over Damian’s eyes — though it was far too late for damage control — until he could successfully stop the video.</p><p>“Todd!” Damian exclaimed, scandalised. “I am not a child. I know what was happening.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean you should have to see it,” Jason insisted grimly. He turned and marched for his bike, grabbing his helmet and settling it back onto his head as he did. “That was Dick’s safe house by the docks?”</p><p>Damian nodded. “We can be there in fifteen minutes if we break traffic laws.”</p><p>“<em>We</em>? There’s no <em>we</em>, buddy,” insisted Jason. “I don’t want you to see whatever’s waiting.” He didn’t point out that in fifteen minutes, it would be too late. That, in fact, five minutes ago would have been too late. <em>Whatever’s waiting</em> would probably be a lot worse than anything they had already seen.</p><p>“I have seen worse.” Damian crossed his arms and stood his ground. “You cannot possibly think yourself capable of stopping me, or capable of defeating Deathstroke alone. I must help Richard, and no one on this Earth could keep me from it.”</p><p>“Jesus, you talk like a movie villain.” Jason threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine. But know that I’m only agreeing because I don’t have time to argue with you if I wanna get to Dick in time to do anything useful. And you follow my orders while we’re out there.”</p><p>“That is an acceptable compromise.” Damian uncrossed his arms and looked between the Batmobile and Red Hood’s bike in trepidation.</p><p>“C’mon, Robin,” Jason ordered, patting his bike’s seat. “We’ve got an old man’s ass to kick.”</p><p>Damian shot Jason a thin smile as he stumbled over to the bike, a ghost of what Robin had once been. The Boy Wonder, laughing in the face of danger; smiling at the chance to deliver justice.</p><p>Jason shuddered minutely and revved the engine.</p><p>Breaking traffic regulations was a standard part of Red Hood's driving, but Jason had never broken as many laws on his bike as he was now. He ran reds, swerved dangerously around the few pedestrians who were out so late at night, sped the wrong way down one-way streets, and wove between the sidewalk and the street with the singular focus of someone who <em>needed</em> to be somewhere.</p><p>Damian could do nothing but cling to Jason's waist in tense silence as they careened through the empty nighttime streets of Gotham. It wasn’t as though they usually spoke a lot while riding motorcycles, considering how difficult it was to hear one another over the roar of the engine, but it was abnormal for neither of them to make any attempts to shout, jab, or generally irritate one another while in such close proximity.</p><p>By the time the two arrived at Dick's safe house and Jason had pulled his bike into the shadow of a dumpster in an alley the building backed onto, they were both ready to jump out of their skin.</p><p>Scanning the apartment building with a critical eye, Damian focussed on one darkened window on the top floor that was open to the fire escape outside. “There,” he announced. “Richard selected this location because of the ease of entry from the fire escape. Judging by the open window, it must also be—”</p><p>“How Deathstroke got in,” finished Jason. He yanked the grappling gun off of Damian's belt and shot it at the fire escape without another word, holding Damian with his free arm as they rocketed through the air.</p><p>“Hood, I will not be treated in such an undignified manner,” Damian hissed once they had landed, dusting imaginary grime off of himself. “You—”</p><p>Jason shushed Damian, flattening his back to the wall next to the window and trying not to vomit at the sounds of desperate panting carrying on the breeze. “Follow my lead. Don't give away our position.”</p><p>Scowling, Damian pressed his back into the wall as well.</p><p>“We look on three," Jason murmured. “One, two...”</p><p>“Three,” Damian finished in a whisper, leaning sideways and turning his head to see through the window.</p><p>“Yo, what the fuck,” Jason breathed as soon as he had peered through Dick’s open bedroom window and gotten a good look at what was going on.</p><p>“Is Richard… smiling?” Damian asked quietly, voice cracking on the vowels.</p><p>Jason glanced between Damian, who was watching the scene before them with eyes wide underneath his domino, and the bed, where Dick was on his knees seeming <em>ecstatic</em> about Deathstroke hitting it from behind. He realised that he should be the responsible adult in this situation, so he wrapped both hands over Damian's eyes with thumbs over his ears while he himself kept looking on in horror.</p><p>Damian had enough sense not to struggle against Jason’s makeshift blindfolding; he knew it would give them away. Besides, he was somewhat glad that he couldn’t tell what was going on.</p><p>“Such a good boy, begging so pretty for me. You're doing so well.” Deathstroke was going hard, almost inhumanly so, and Dick panted with each one of his brutal thrusts. “That good? Talk to me, kid.”</p><p>“I—<em> yes</em>,” Dick breathed, his eyes almost crossing momentarily, practically drooling onto the mattress. He hummed, looking extremely content. “It’s good, ah, it’s just… faster? Please, I want it harder, Slade, please.”</p><p>Deathstroke smirked and slowed down. “Tell me how much you want it, boy,” he demanded.</p><p>Giving a frustrated groan, Dick babbled, “I want it so much. I love it. Love how it feels, always, but— ah! But I love it most when you go <em>hard</em>, c’mon Slade, please.”</p><p>With every word out of Dick’s mouth, Deathstroke increased his pace.</p><p>“Love how you feel, mmm, love everything about it,” Dick proclaimed, reverent. He was still smiling; happiness painted across his face as Deathstroke took him so hard that the headboard slammed repeatedly into the wall and the foggy glass pendants on the ugly chandelier screwed into the ceiling jittered. “Love it when you tell me I— I'm a good boy. Love it when you pin me down and make me take it.”</p><p>“Are you trying to make me flustered, kid?” Deathstroke asked, smirking but not slowing down.</p><p>“Maybe. Is it,” Dick stopped to squeeze his eyes shut and bite at his lip, the words seemingly knocked out of his head by Deathstroke’s relentless pace. “Uh, is it working, <em>honey</em>?” He shot a shiteating grin over his shoulder.</p><p>Deathstroke released his iron grip on Dick’s hips with one hand in order to reach down and wrap his fingers around Dick’s throat, eliciting a gasp from Dick as his head and shoulders were hauled off the mattress by the grip on his neck. “What happened to being a good boy? If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all,” growled Deathstroke.</p><p>Dick only gurgled weakly in response. When Deathstroke finally released the hold on his throat, he collapsed to the mattress, drew in a gasping breath, and wheezed, “Love your hands on me, oh— oh, God, I love you, Slade. I love you.”</p><p>Laughing an actual <em>laugh</em>, of happiness rather than of mirth, Deathstroke murmured, “Love you too, kid. Even though you’re a sappy little bitch.”</p><p>Jason couldn’t make the, “What the <em>fuck</em>,” that forced its way out of his mouth quiet enough to go ignored a second time.</p><p>Deathstroke and Dick whipped their heads to the window and went stock-still in complete synchrony. This created a comically pornographic tableau wherein three wide eyes were frozen, staring at their viewer in the window with some combination of shock, horror, and, in one eye’s case, smugness.</p><p>“Red Hood,” Deathstroke said coldly, making no move to pull out or cover anyone’s modesty. “And a blinded Robin. What a lovely surprise.”</p><p>Flailing away from Deathstroke frantically, Dick flopped like a fish out of water with his arms still cuffed behind his back until he tumbled off the far side of the bed with a thud. After a moment of audible struggling, his face peeked back over the mattress, looking just as mortified as before. “Slade,” he said faintly. “The key?”</p><p>“Of course,” Deathstroke agreed with a smirk, climbing off the bed with dignity. He seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that he was stark naked as he crouched down to rifle through his discarded belt for the keys.Despite his own nonchalance, Deathstroke asked Dick, who seemed significantly more bothered by his own exposure, “You want clothes as well, kid?”</p><p>Dick nodded mutely, cheeks red, still staring at his brothers in the window with wide eyes.</p><p>“Well?” Deathstroke quirked an eyebrow at Jason, who got the distinct and disturbing feeling that Deathstroke could tell precisely where he was looking despite the helmet hiding the direction of his gaze.</p><p>Averting his eyes under his helmet, Jason stuttered, “We saw you on the security feed and thought… well. We’ll just.” He nodded to the side, trying to gesture at the part of the fire escape from which Dick’s bedroom window wasn’t visible. “We’ll wait outside.” He then dragged Damian away by the head.</p><p>Damian hissed and kicked as he was dragged, but seemed to calm down once Jason guided him to sit on the metal staircase and released his hold. “What’s going on? Does Richard know we’re here?” he asked, rubbing at his mask and ears.</p><p>“Boy, does he ever.” Jason leaned against the wall in front of Damian, let his head drop back against the brick with a thunk, and sighed deeply. “You missed a lot.”</p><p>The two brothers sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of faint muttering and clinking handcuffs audible through the open window.</p><p>A car honked in the distance, and Jason nearly jumped at the sound. He was too on edge. Beginning to pace back and forth across the fire escape’s small landing, he found himself wishing he could just leave; avoid whatever conversation was about to happen. But no sooner had he thought it than Dick had started clambering out the window, wearing a t-shirt that was definitely not his and looking nothing short of incensed.</p><p>Dick shoved Jason up against the rusted wrought iron of the fire escape’s railing furiously before Jason could get a word in edgewise, clearly over his earlier embarrassment. “You <em>saw him on the security feed</em>? What the hell, Jason! This is <em>my</em> safe house, and I told B not to monitor it tonight! Shockingly, he doesn’t get a say in my relationships. None of you do!”</p><p>Jason shoved Dick back in kind, deliberately hitting him hard in the shoulder that Deathstroke had been twisting a mere twenty minutes ago. As Dick cursed, Jason hissed, “Have some self-awareness, Grayson. We’re here because we were fucking worried. At least we care enough to check.”</p><p>“How about you don’t spy on me when I’m in my own home!” Dick seethed, poking his finger into Jason’s chest armour. “There’s this thing called <em>privacy</em>. How could you <em>possibly</em> think showing up like this was acceptable?”</p><p>“Wow, I don’t know how we could <em>possibly</em> have thought this was acceptable, Dick!” Jason shouted, slamming his gloved fist into the apartment complex’s redbrick wall. His eyes were probably glowing green with rage under the layers and layers of masks covering them. “Maybe we saw motherfucking <em>Deathstroke</em> literally twisting your arm until you agreed to let him fuck you, and thought you could use a little help!”</p><p>“That's not—” Dick stopped with his mouth still open, his eyebrows raised. He dropped shoulders and his gaze, most of the aggression leaving him, and rubbed at his reddened wrists self-consciously. “Yeah, alright. I get how things might have looked. But still!” The rage returned to his eyes in full force. “It’s bad enough that my safe houses are all bugged like I’m some kind of <em>criminal</em>, you violated my privacy on a night I specifically told you not to look!”</p><p>Scoffing, Jason echoed, “You <em>told</em> me,” incredulously. “You didn’t tell me shit, Grayson. You told B. You should know better than to think he would ever actually communicate with the rest of us!”</p><p>“He told me,” Damian provided helpfully. He was leaning back on his elbows and watching from his perch on the stairs, looking almost relaxed, as though watching a slightly boring movie. “I did not listen.”</p><p>Dick turned to Damian, silent. He just blinked at him for a moment before sighing. “Dami, I need to talk to Jason right now, okay? You don’t—”</p><p>“It was me. I apologise,” Damian insisted.</p><p>Blinking at Damian again, Dick asked, “Huh?”</p><p>“I looked after father told me not to. Todd did nothing wrong. He responded rationally to the information I gave him.” Damian glared down at his boots. “Father was so specific about <em>tonight</em>. I wanted to know what was happening; if you were in danger, if I could help. Then I looked, and it was Deathstroke.” Damian gave Dick a look that might have meant constipation on any other human being, but meant <em>emotion</em> on Damian. “<em>Deathstroke</em>, Richard.”</p><p>“The fuck’s up with that, anyway?” Jason asked in a snarl. “I know we all have miles-high daddy issues, but Deathstroke? Talk about thinking with your dick. Of all the middle aged men willing to fuck you, you had t—”</p><p>“Oh, fuck you, Jason!” Dick exclaimed, face red with fury. “You don’t get a say in this. I can sleep with whoever I want to, and you don’t get to criticise that.”</p><p>Jason rolled his eyes underneath his helmet. “I’m sorry, Dick. Was I meant to approve of your little enemies-with-benefits arrangement? The man’s a fucking creep.”</p><p>“We don’t need your approval! And you know that I don’t—” Dick stopped, crossing his arms across his chest and averting his eyes. “I don’t do arrangements like that if I can help it,” he murmured. “I never have.”</p><p>Giving a snort of laughter, Jason insisted, “No way. No fucking way.”</p><p>Dick just stared him down.</p><p>“You mean all that bullshit back there wasn’t just fuelled by horniness? Heat-of-the-moment babbling?” When Dick remained silent, Jason scoffed. “You’re being played. Do you know who he <em>is</em>?”</p><p>“Are you kidding me? I know who he is a lot better than you do,” Dick shouted, making as if to hit Jason. He stopped and clenched his fists instead, clearly remembering that Jason was in full armour and he was only in his boxers and an overlarge t-shirt. If he started a fight, he wouldn’t be the winner.</p><p>Jason shook his head slowly. “You’re asking to get stabbed in the back. I didn’t think you were this fucking naïve.”</p><p>Damian narrowed his eyes at Jason, then glanced between his brothers a few times. “What happened while you were covering my eyes and ears?”</p><p>“Well, Damian,” Jason drawled, not looking away from Dick. “Dick here thinks he’s in <em>love</em>. And like that ain’t good enough, he honestly believes it’s <em>reciprocated</em>.”</p><p>Voice nearing the pitch of a shriek, Dick exclaimed, “You saw him say it back!”</p><p>“Oh, like that means shit.”</p><p>“Why are you so jaded, Jason?” Dick asked in a sigh, hand to his forehead as though holding back a headache. “It’s not like you’ve had any atrocious breakups in your life. Love <em>exists</em>. Just because you won’t let anyone get close enough to experience it doesn’t mean it d—”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Jason seethed. “This isn’t about me.”</p><p>Dick crossed his arms and glared as hard as he could. “Isn’t it?”</p><p>“No. But one thing I’ll tell you based on my experience, if you really wanna talk about it so bad?” Jason stepped into Dick’s space until their faces were mere centimetres apart. “People’ll <em>let you down</em>. And they’ll keep doing it, over and over, again and again, ’til you learn to expect it. That alone does enough damage. You add letting him chain you up and the fact that he’s a merc who’s been gunning for your ass since you were a kid? Then you <em>believe</em> him when he says he cares? That’s more vulnerability than you can afford if you don’t wanna end up dead.”</p><p>“Hood is saying he does not want to see you hurt,” Damian pointed out. “Neither of us do. That is why we came here in the first place. Though as far as I’m concerned, our job was done when we found that Deathstroke was not forcing himself on you.” He stood up, dusted off his pants, and wandered to the edge of the fire escape.</p><p>“Exact— wait. What?” Jason did a double take at Damian. “The fuck does that mean?”</p><p>Dick looked at Damian hopefully. “Really?”</p><p>“Yes. You are an adult, and a competent one at that. You understand risk. You understand how to navigate romantic” — Damian made a face not dissimilar to that of someone biting into a lemon — “and sexual relationships. As long as no one is doing anything unwanted to you, it is none of our business what you do.”</p><p>Grinning, Dick exclaimed, “Thank you! That means a lot, Dami.”</p><p>Damian nodded solemnly. “Of course.” He turned to Jason. “I’ll return to our bike. You had better make it quick, Hood.” He then leapt over the railing and plummeted out of sight toward the alley below.</p><p>“It’s <em>my</em> bike,” Jason muttered under his breath.</p><p>“So?” Dick asked once Damian was well and truly gone, resting his hands on his hips. “Gonna keep lecturing me?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah.” Jason pointed after Damian. “What the fuck was that?”</p><p>Dick squinted. “What?”</p><p>“When you thought it was me looking at the footage, you were ready to throw hands. But when it was him? You <em>thanked</em> him!” Jason cracked his knuckles, realising too late that the nervous habit looked threatening in his current situation.</p><p>Sure enough, Dick glanced at Jason’s curled fists warily. “Okay, so now it <em>is</em> about you.”</p><p>“Abso-fuckin-lutely.” Jason crossed his arms to prevent any more accidental knuckle-cracking. “When you think I’ve done something wrong, you go off on me. Add that to everyone always thinking I'm doing everything wrong, even when I’m not? I'm fucking tired of being torn into.”</p><p>Dick collapsed to sit on the stairs with a sigh, shuddering minutely when his bare thighs made contact with the cold metal. Resting his chin in his hands and gazing at the silhouette of Damian lurking by Jason’s bike several stories below, he murmured, “I’m not Bruce, Jason. I haven’t ever thought you’re doing everything wrong. You might do things I wouldn’t, but I don’t tear into you like he does. I would never.”</p><p>“You just did,” Jason growled. “Then when it turned out it was Damian, and you knew he had done what you hated the <em>thought</em> of me doing, you thanked him? I know you coddle the hell outta him, ‘cause he’s your baby brother or whatever, but he has to be held responsible for his actions to the same extent as anyone else!”</p><p>A pained expression on his face, Dick looked at Jason in silence. After a long moment of contemplation, he insisted, “You’re my baby brother too, Jay.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck off,” scoffed Jason. “Now’s not the time to pull that shit on me. I wanna know why you can’t teach the kid a goddamn lesson about privacy when you were so eager to tear me a new one over it. This whole fuckin’ thing started when I told him that creeping on you was weird.”</p><p>“Look.” Dick ran a hand through his sweaty hair, huffing in frustration. “Damian isn’t like most kids. Even you were better at understanding people when you were his age. You never had a hard time with that; you’re <em>good</em> at it. You didn’t need to be taught compassion or how to sympathise with people. And Damian, as much as I love him, is really bad at sympathizing with people. It’s not his fault, and I hate that he was raised in a way that made him feel like he couldn’t afford to care about others. But I don’t want to discourage caring for others, when we should be teaching him that caring about others is the most important thing you can do.”</p><p>Jason huffed and glared at a window of the apartment complex on the other side of the alley.</p><p>“The stuff you were saying is the exact opposite of what we should be teaching him,” Dick continued, undeterred by Jason’s foul mood. “Caring about people is a beautiful thing, okay? It isn't a weakness.”</p><p>“So now the bullshit you were spewing was to protect Damian’s innocent little ears?” Jason asked incredulously. “You’re full of it. You got defensive about me getting worried because, guess what, <em>I care about you</em>. Which is the most important thing a person can do, according to you, so I’m not sure why you’re so fucking bothered. You just can’t stand that I might be right to be worried about you letting a paid killer warm your bed!”</p><p>“He loves me!” exclaimed Dick, clenching a fist in his hair.</p><p>“He sure doesn't fuck you like he does!” Jason bellowed.</p><p>“That,” Dick growled, “is none of your business. But while you're being nosy, might as well reassure you: he would never do anything I don't want.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Jason nodded slowly. “You're good with him calling you a slut? Hitting you? Twisting your arm until you cry?”</p><p>“Yes!” Breathing hard and glaring up at Jason, Dick amended to, “Well, not the calling me a slut part. But he knows that, and tries not to do it. He loves me and wouldn't ever hurt me in a way I didn't ask for. But I can’t do anything to convince you of that, can I?”</p><p>“No,” Jason said simply, uncrossing his arms. “You can’t. So we might as well forget that part of the problem, because I know you don’t give a fuck about my concerns here; you’ll do what you want. We’re beating a dead horse. I wanna talk about <em>Damian</em>.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to say!” Dick leapt to his feet, a wild look in his eyes. “I explained why I reacted like I did. I’m sorry for freaking out on you, I really am, but I was <em>so</em> angry when I started arguing with you. By the time I realised it was Damian who'd been monitoring the safe house, I’d cooled down.”</p><p>“You want me to believe that it’s not all <em>Damian can do no wrong</em> and <em>Jason’s just a huge fuckup</em>?” Jason asked, hating how much hope leached into his words as they left his mouth. He had been aiming for sarcasm.</p><p>Dick smiled; a tiny, delicate smile that made Jason want to knock his lights out. It gave him the uncomfortable feeling that Dick was seeing something breakable when he looked at him. “You’re not a fuckup, Little Wing,” Dick insisted, holding his arms out for a hug. “Come on. Bring it in.”</p><p>Looking at Dick's bare legs warily then dragging his eyes up to where Deathstroke's shirt was hanging off his right shoulder, exposing a few purpling love bites, Jason drawled, “No thanks.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Dick conceded, dropping his arms with a grin. After a few beats of shifting uncomfortably in place, he added, “I <em>am</em> annoyed at Damian. My whole night is wrecked because of him, and I'm sorry that I aimed my frustration about that at you.” He glanced at his window momentarily before muttering, “I was having a good night, too.”</p><p>“Really? I hadn't noticed,” Jason said, deadpan.</p><p>Dick went red and reached out to slap Jason's shoulder, which Jason fully knew he deserved. “Do you think I haven't been humiliated enough for one night, or something? You're <em>mean</em>.”</p><p>Jason snorted. “Anyone would be disappointed by getting cut off from that.” He gestured at Dick's bedroom window. “I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, but the man's packing heat.”</p><p>“Jason!” Dick shouted, scandalized.</p><p>Shoulders shaking with laughter, Jason wheezed, “Your face!”</p><p>After pouting at Jason for a moment, Dick glared at the window and yelled, “Slade?”</p><p>The reply of, “Yes?” came far too fast for Jason's liking, but he couldn't find it in him to care if Deathstroke had been listening in on the entire conversation. He was fine with the man knowing he didn't trust him an inch.</p><p>“You wouldn't sleep with my brother, would you?” When Deathstroke's naked upper body leaned out of the window, Dick made his biggest eyes at him.</p><p>Deathstroke blinked at him. “I would if you wanted me to.” He glanced sideways at Jason, who had halted his wheezing to stare at Deathstroke in shock. “Is he offering?”</p><p>“No!” Dick glared at Jason and Deathstroke. “I do <em>not</em> want you to sleep with him.”</p><p>Chuckling, Deathstroke hauled himself through the window and slunk to Dick's side. “You're such a needy little thing, aren't you,” he accused with a smirk, wrapping a possessive arm around Dick's waist and kissing one of the bruises on his neck. A pair of Dick's sweats rested low on his hips, for which Jason found himself thanking every deity he had ever heard of. Deathstroke was not above wandering around in the buff as an intimidation tactic. As built as he was, it would probably have worked.</p><p>Dick just hummed contentedly at Deathstroke's lips on his neck. “And you're a possessive old bastard, but you don't see me complaining.”</p><p>“Must work out well, then,” Jason theorised, somewhat dazed.</p><p>“Oh, it does,” Deathstroke assured Jason, his eye glinting in the faint glow of the streetlights several stories below.</p><p>“If you ever hurt him in any way...” Jason started, trailing off in favour of looming menacingly.</p><p>Deathstroke smiled, clearly amused by Jason's attempt at intimidation. “You'll do your best to have my guts for garters, kid. I get it.”</p><p>“But you don't have to worry,” Dick insisted, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of Deathstroke's silver hair behind his ear.</p><p>“No,” Deathstroke agreed, smiling down at Dick with one eyebrow raised. “You don't.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No idea how the end wound up that sweet, but here we are. I expected more angst from myself.</p><p>Thanks for reading! Comments of all kinds are always appreciated. A big thank you to the anonymous prompter who inspired this whole shitshow.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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